What Do You Need?
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: What happens when Molly becomes the client? When she finds something which entails her needing Sherlock's help, will he be there for her when she needs him? Eventual Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

**Here I am back with another semi-crime based, eventual, Sherlolly story. I am going to apologise now if the medical premise makes no sense. I don't have any medical knowledge whatsoever, it you do please suspend your disbelief if you have to.**

 **This will be an eventual M rating and as ever I own nothing, I just wish I did.**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Sherlock, I need your help. Molly x**

Molly sat in her office and for the first time in a long while she had a sudden bout of nerves over her friendship with Sherlock. What if he'd been fooling her all this time? What if he didn't really care? What if...

Her phone beeped.

 **What do you need? SH**

Molly could have sobbed with relief. For a moment she just sat holding the phone tight in her hands, her eyes closed, trying to get her emotions under control.

 **You**

Half an hour later she was making her way over to Baker St. with a folder hidden in her bag. She couldn't help the nerves she felt at stealing it. They were the same as she'd had when she had helped Sherlock fake his death all those years ago. She knew she'd never make a criminal, how did people turn off the guilt and the anxiety about being caught

He'd left the door on the latch for her and she was grateful. She wasn't sure at this moment that she could face Mrs Hudson's cheeriness. It would break her.

She ran lightly up the stairs and made her way into Sherlock's home. The last time she'd come here alone it was to help him solve crimes now she was here as the client.

It wasn't a particularly cold day but he was sat in his normal chair in front of a comforting fire. He stood as she entered and came forward to help her remove her coat which he then hung next to his own.

'Molly.' He looked at her and didn't need to say anything else. The wall that she had built around her emotions crumbled and she bit on her knuckle to try to stop the tears from falling. She knew he hated emotion, knew that a crying woman was the last thing he wanted to deal with. She'd seen it before in this very room, the cold handing over of a divorce lawyer's card or at most a handkerchief but no empathy or sympathy.

But then he did something unexpected. He took a hesitant step forward and put an arm around her shoulder pulling her too him in a one armed hug. It was the final straw and she clutched at his shirt as she cried. Eventually she felt his other arm come up and circle her and she knew, really knew that he did care. In his own quiet way he did care for her. It might never be more than friendship but Molly could live with that. Had lived with that for five long years now.

The crying soon came to an end, she'd never really been one for tears, and she started to pull away muttering apologies noticing the damp wet streaks on his white shirt, at least in wasn't covered in mascara.

'Oh God, I am so sorry Sherlock. I don't know what came over me. I...umm...your shirt...'

'Never mind about my shirt. I have plenty more and we both know what came over you so why don't you come and sit down and tell me everything. I made tea.'

She looked up and noticed the teapot and cups and saucers all laid out on a small table next to the chairs.

She made her way over and watched as Sherlock poured. He didn't need to ask her about her preference for milk or sugar, he already knew. He knew so much about her without her ever having to tell him.

Once they were both sat opposite each other sipping at the scalding tea she finally looked him in the eye and he nodded once, encouraging her to tell him her story.

'Well, it's about my dad. You already know that he died, of course you do, I told you. Well what I didn't tell you was that it was here, in London, at Bart's. He'd been ill for a while, we all knew it was on the cards but then he got pneumonia and he went downhill so fast. It was as though the fight had gone out of him. He was given antibiotics and they should have helped, should have given him a chance but...well, 24 hours later and he was dead.'

'It goes without saying that I didn't do the autopsy. I wasn't even working here at Barts at the time; I was still a junior doctor struggling to pick a specialisation. It was his death that moved me towards pathology. Ironic really...'

She stared into the fire for a moment, lost in her memories. It had been an awful time. Trying to deal with her own grief whilst helping her mum with the funeral, the paperwork, telling their friends and relatives.

She felt a hand on her knee and looked up to find Sherlock looking at her. She recognised the look but had never seen him look at her like that. He looked sad.

'Go on,' he said softly.

'Well, I never really thought much about it. I mean...of course I thought about dad but not about how he died. It was just...' She tailed off feeling her emotions starting to overwhelm her again.

Sherlock interrupted her 'Let me help. You were due into Barts today but you're not dressed like you normally would be for work. You layer up when you are working in the morgue. So you've been in the offices. Your jeans and blouse have smudges of dust... so working with old files. Given what you have said so far it's easy to see that you have been archiving some of the old paper records and came across your father's file?'

Molly just nodded mutely, fighting the tears that were threatening again.

'Human curiosity would make you look in the file and given that you then stole it,' he pointed at the bulge in her bag, 'and the fact that you contacted me before anyone else I would deduce that you found something...unexpected in his records. But what?'

'It was the toxicology report.' Molly blurted out the fears that had been plaguing her since she'd opened up her father's file. Sherlock was right, she'd never thought to look for it but as soon as she saw it she had to read it. 'It's not right, it can't be right. They were supposed to be giving him antibiotics to fight the infection but they didn't show up in the blood screenings.'

'Maybe I'm reading too much into this, maybe I'm...'

'Just show me the file Molly. Let me be the judge of that.' He held out his hand expectantly and Molly bent down to pull the old brown folder out of her bag.

He spent ten minutes looking at the file before he closed his eyes and Molly assumed he had gone into his mind palace. She watched him, she'd heard about him doing this but she'd never actually seen it herself before. It felt strangely intimate somehow. Like watching someone when they were sleeping. She could just make out the pulse beating in his neck, the light catching the curls on his head. She wished once again she didn't love him so much because at times like this it was almost painful.

It was at that exact moment that Sherlock opened his eyes and caught her gaze. She felt the blush spread across her cheeks at him catching her openly staring at him. He didn't look away though and she found she couldn't.

In the end he sighed and looked at the fire.

'It appears very likely Molly that someone helped your father on his way. You know he was terminal anyway; this could have been viewed as a mercy killing rather than anything malicious. Are you sure you want to pursue it?'

He wasn't saying anything that Molly hadn't already considered so she had an answer for him straight away, 'but what if it wasn't...a mercy killing that is. What if this is one if those 'Angel of Death' scenarios? I'd never forgive myself if I didn't follow it up.'

'So why me? Why not go to the hospital authorities with the case or the police? Lestrade would hear you out, you know he would.'

'It was seven years ago Sherlock, and as you say it's likely but not definite. I want to check it out further before going to the police. But...I don't know where to start. I need...'

'Me, Molly. You need me.'

 **Sigh, don't we all need a Sherlock in our lives. But anyway, I hope you like the start. As per my normal style there will be regular postings though I don't think this will be a long story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**You remember that medical suspension of disbelief, yep carry on with that please. I would like though to say a big thank you to WayTooEasilyObssessed for your review. I wish I were bright enough to understand what you suggested and incorporate it...instead I'm rather skirting over the actual cause of death.**

 **To everyone else that reviewed, thank you, you give me the confidence to continue.**

 **And last but not least I completely forget every time I'm here to mention that I am on tumblr. If you want to get in touch you can find me under the same pen name, look me up, drop me a line, send me a Sherlock pic...whatever ;).**

 **Chapter 2**

Molly left shortly after and Sherlock spent some time going back through the file and formulating the tests they'd agreed to run the following day. They were going to try to replicate the blood tests to see whether any of Mr Hooper's other medications could have interacted with the antibiotics to nullify them in a tox screen.

Sherlock was fairly sure they wouldn't but Molly was determined to rule out every possibility.

He had been surprised to receive her text earlier that day but it hadn't occurred to him to do anything other than offer her his help. She had done so much for both him and John over the last few years. He owed her his life, the least he could do would be to be there for her now.

What had surprised him had been his reaction to her distress. Molly had been cheerful, cheeky, flirty, scared and angry around him but he had never really seen her so upset and he hadn't liked it. He had found himself not just wanting to help her but wanting to comfort her, to take away her pain.

He couldn't remember ever holding somebody the way he had held Molly whilst she had cried in his arms. He left the comforting to John or just plain didn't bother but this was different, this was Molly. She had seemed so small and vulnerable. He shook his head trying to dispel the memory, it wouldn't do for him to get sentimental. She was his friend and she needed him to be strong, to solve the case and that's exactly what he would do.

It didn't stop the feel of her haunting him in his sleep though and he awoke the next day feeling out of sorts and unrefreshed.

It was a reasonably warm spring morning and he decided to walk to Barts to try to clear his head. Molly met him in the lab bringing with her a coffee made just how he liked it. She always seemed to anticipate his needs; he suddenly felt a stab of guilt that he had never really returned the compliment. Maybe that was something he should work on. He remembered back to when John had first moved into Baker St. and the endless berating about being selfish and not thinking of others. He had started to make a bit of an effort with John and with Mrs Hudson, but what about Molly. What had he ever done for her?

He set up his microscope and they got to work. Molly had obtained various blood samples for them to work on, from both live and dead patients. Sherlock quickly realised that the live blood was her own when he saw the edge of the plaster under the arm of her lab coat.

He queried it with her but couldn't fault her logic that as she was related her blood would be the closest match to her fathers.

She had also obtained the various drugs that he had been on and they spent quite a bit of time calculating how much of each medication should be mixed with the blood to produce realistic results.

It was when Molly was sat opposite him reading the tox screen results that they had just produced that he realised he was staring at her. Not in his normal deductive or critical way. No, strangely he found himself just enjoying the sight of her. Seeing the way her eyes ran over the paper, her finger tracing over some of the details. Her hair was up in its normal ponytail and he had a sudden inexplicable urge to remove the hair band and run his hand through it. He wanted to see if it was a smooth and soft as it looked.

He already knew how it would smell, she had leant over him earlier and he had smelt strawberries and vanilla. The sudden closeness had made him tense and she'd moved back apologising. He'd almost put his hand out to stop her, wanting her to stay close but he'd clenched his hands into fists instead. He couldn't quite understand what was happening to him, why he was suddenly reacting so strangely around her.

She looked up at him and smiled before pointing out some of the results and Sherlock felt his mouth run dry. He struggled to concentrate on what she were saying at first. But then the details of the case took over and he spent the next twenty minutes pouring over the figures with her.

Their conclusion at the end was as Sherlock had anticipated. Molly's father had not received the antibiotics that should have prolonged his life. So now it was on to the harder question, was this an isolated occurrence or the work of a potential serial killer.

Molly looked worn out by the time they had finished. She sat back in her chair and rubbed a hand wearily across her face. Sherlock had long known how close she had been to her father and this new knowledge was hitting her hard. He had a sudden desire to see a smile back on her face. Maybe it was selfish of him but he was starting to realise what a positive, uplifting influence Molly was on his life. She always greeted him so cheerfully. The smile, which he found so hard, coming easily to her features. He missed it.

'Would you...' He hesitated wondering if this was something he should really act on but then he remembered his promise to himself to give something back to Molly. 'Would you like to go out and get some food, I know a good Italian restaurant not far from Baker St.?'

Molly gave him a small smile which he found himself returning.

'That's really nice of you Sherlock but I'm exhausted. I think I'm just going to grab a take away and go home.' She pushed back her chair and stood up starting to pack away her things.

Sherlock felt an unreasonable disgruntlement at her response. He knew he was frowning and he found himself trying to come up with an alternative. He wasn't ready to let her go yet, he needed to stay with her, though he wasn't quite sure why.

He stood mirroring her movements, 'fine, well we can pick up something from that chippy I told you about. The one that always gives me extra chips.'

He turned to collect his coat and missed seeing the surprised expression on Molly's face, 'oh, OK. I...erm..I don't think I'll be such good company but if you want.'

Sherlock seemed very solicitous, guiding Molly to the lift, calling the cab, going to get the food and paying for it all. He refused to take any of Molly's offers of money or help. He even tried to find plates in Molly's kitchen until she pushed him out of the way laughing.

'I'm not an invalid Sherlock. Your concern for me is very sweet, unexpected but sweet, but I'll be fine. You don't have to stay if you don't want.'

Sherlock had never ever been called sweet before and he had to swallow down the scathing comment that came to mind to refute the suggestion.

'I bought these chips for a reason and I intend to have some of them. I suspect you just want them all for yourself...well you're not getting rid of me that easily.' He put on his fiercest scowl and was pleased to see that it elicited the hoped for smile from Molly. She punched him lightly on his arm before picking up her plate and taking it through to the front room with Sherlock following close behind.

He had never been in Molly's flat before and he suddenly wondered why not. He had known her for years but had never once bothered to think about where or how she lived. He was surprised by how small it was and how shabby some of the furniture was. He knew how much she was paid at Barts so why was she living so frugally.

He spotted the picture of Molly and her mum and dad on the mantelpiece. It was easy to work out that her father had been a self-employed plumber, no company life insurance or pension scheme then. Her mother looked frail even in a picture that was well over five years old. So possibly disabled now, at the very least unable to work. So it looked like Molly was helping out her mother financially to her own detriment.

His food suddenly seemed to stick in his throat. How long had she been struggling like this? He should have noticed sooner, the second hand clothes were charity shop not vintage, the willingness to work overtime, eating in the subsidised hospital canteen. Molly had been scrimping for years and had never once complained, never once mentioned it.

He looked across at her, wondering at the hardships she must have endured to get to where she was now. He'd never questioned his own good fortune, he came from an affluent background, he had enough family money to indulge his career choice. It allowed him to choose his cases based on interest not financial reward. He had never questioned this, never really felt any gratitude. At times he had even thrown it away, choosing drugs and homelessness over comfort and stability.

He found himself wondering how he could help Molly, how he could make her burden lighter. He knew enough to know he couldn't just offer her money, she would refuse it, see it as charity, be embarrassed that he had seen her circumstances. But still he wanted to help her, he wanted her life to be...better.

As they ate Molly asked Sherlock about his recent cases and he found himself regaling her with one case that had had him and John chasing a violent ex-con across a marshy bog in Norfolk. Molly laughed as he told her how John had lost his footing and ended up waist deep in mud cursing at Sherlock to pull him free.

'And did you?' Molly asked as she giggled.

'Eventually. I had to wait until the police finally arrived to remove the thug, he would have absconded otherwise, I had no means of tying him up. John was most put out that I had left him stuck for almost an hour. He was lucky, some of those bogs are made up of a kind of sinking sand, at least he wasn't going anywhere.'

'Why does something tell me you said that to him...' Molly was almost crying laughing now and Sherlock found himself loving the way her eyes lit up, the colour returning to her cheeks.

'Well, I thought it would give him comfort, calm him down but apparently I was wrong. It just made him angrier. He even took a swing at me when we finally dragged him to solid ground. No gratitude, no thank you just an attempted busted nose. It backfired on him though. He was still suffering from parasthesia in his legs causing him to be unstable. When I moved out of the way of his fist he overbalanced and fell in again.'

Molly's laughter became infectious and Sherlock found himself laughing at his memories of John's indignant expression at finding himself in the bog a second time.

Molly put her hand on Sherlock's arm, 'thank you, I really appreciate you helping me and for cheering me up. I needed it.'

Sherlock smiled back genuinely, 'you're welcome Molly. Whatever you need I hope I can give it to you.'

 **For those wondering what parasthesia is its pins and needles. I just thought Sherlock would be the type to use the medical term. (I had to look it up though).**

 **Next update Sunday, see you all then xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am soooo glad you guys are all enjoying the story so far, I feel been so pleased with all your comments. I hope this chapter is as well received. Sherlock is still on his mission to be more thoughtful around Molly, let's see how he gets on.**

 **And for those wondering (probably none of you) the filing system described in this chapter is one I used to have to work to, it was so tedious going through and pulling out all the out of date files. Thankfully that job is well behind me now.**

 **Chapter 3**

Day three found the two of them in the morgue filing room. Molly had queried John's absence and had learnt that he was away with Mary and baby Elizabeth. Apparently his sister had a new partner and was living down near Brighton so they'd gone for a mini holiday.

The filing room was tucked away down a long corridor near to the generators which powered the hospital in the event of a power cut. The room was small and pokey and lined with shelves and shelves of folders.

'The files are held here for about seven years then they get shipped to an archive centre off-site. We take it in turns to come down here every three months and box up the files that need to go away. It's a bit of a boring job because they're all held alphabetically with an archive date marked on the side. Archiving means we have to go through all the racks and pull out those files that have an expired date.'

'As you can no doubt deduce I'd done up until the letter H. Those files are all here, boxed up. I still need to do the rest.' Molly looked round at the row upon row of files she still needed to go through.

'I'll look through these whilst you finish the archiving,' said Sherlock gesturing towards the box. 'It makes sense that we look at deaths in the same time period as your father. If there was someone actively causing deaths we may be able to find other similar occurrences. Now, coffee?'

'Oh sorry yes of course, I'll get you one.' Molly made to leave the room until Sherlock caught her arm. 'No Molly, coffee? Would you like one? I'll get it.'

Molly looked at him in shock, 'you? Why?'

Sherlock frowned; surely it wasn't that strange for him to offer to get coffee, was it? He was sure he must have got her a drink before. 'Yes me and why not. Now, I'm assuming you'll want your normal latte?'

'Well, I would but the staff canteen's miles away.'

'Yes but the cleaner's entrance is not and there's a decent coffee shop only a short distance away from there. Back in a minute.' With that he swept out of the room leaving a slightly baffled Molly behind. She couldn't honestly remember Sherlock getting her anything other than a bag of quavers the day he almost died and the chips the previous night.

He was back within ten minutes and he settled down on the only chair to look through the folders one by one. Given the number he only gave them a fairly cursory glance just enough to initially assess whether there was any possibility of the death being accelerated in any way.

After two hours Molly was up to Q and Sherlock had a pile of ten possibles. He stood up to stretch and look out of the dusty window for a minute before turning back and leaning on the wall whilst he watched Molly working.

'So Molly, you've been here five years now. Isn't it about time they gave you some kind of promotion or pay rise?'

'What? Why on earth are you asking about my job role? You've never cared before.'

'Well, I don't want you leaving. You are important to my work and I can't afford to have any disruption to my access. Maybe I should have a word with Mycroft; he can sort things with Mike.' Sherlock stared into the distance as he worked out the best way to go about securing Molly some more money. He barely heard her speak.

'No, absolutely not. Sherlock you cannot interfere with my career.'

'Why can't I? I take advantage of it enough, the least I should do is ensure you are adequately rewarded for it.'

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, stepping a bit closer. 'What's brought this on Sherlock? You've never considered my grade or salary before. Why now?'

Sherlock looked at her assessing the best way to handle this, 'John's always telling me I take advantage of you. He's right, this seems like the best way to compensate you without me having to change my ways.' He gave her a quick smile ignoring the roll of her eyes. 'Right back to work, this case won't solve itself.'

When Molly had come closer to him earlier she had stood between a pile of archive boxes and the shelves, rather than wait for her to step back Sherlock just squeezed past, automatically putting his hands on her hips as he did. The space was slightly narrower than he'd gauged and there was less than an inch between them.

He hesitated when he heard Molly's breath hitch in her throat and for a moment they stood chest to chest with just a brown folder between them, clutched in Molly's slightly trembling hands. Molly looked up to see why Sherlock had stopped and held her breath when he brought his hand up to her cheek. For a split second she thought he was going to kiss her, she saw his eyes flick down to her lips but then his thumb brushed the side of her face, 'you have jam on your face Molly, the downsides of toast in the morning.'

It was at times like these that Molly wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Sherlock slid past her and made his way back to the desk picking up the next file.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid of course he wasn't going to kiss you_. Molly berated herself as she carried on with the archiving hoping he hadn't noticed either her reaction or her subsequent blush. She certainly wasn't paying attention to Sherlock and she certainly hadn't noticed his accelerated breathing.

Sherlock sat down and picked up the next file trying to act as naturally as possible. He had almost kissed Molly Hooper, how had that almost happened. One minute he was moving to go past her and the next he had been caught by her eyes as they tried to look anywhere but at his face. He was suddenly struck with an almost overwhelming desire to feel her skin and brush his lips against hers.

He had even got as far as lifting his hand and starting to cup her face, his eyes on her mouth watching her lick her lips so slowly. At the last minute his brain engaged again and he made up some stupid excuse about her having a mark on her face.

He felt as though he were claustrophobic, he glanced up at Molly to see if she had noticed anything but she was just happily carrying on going through the files, but dear God she was bending over right in front of him her backside encased in a tight pair of blue jeans; her waist narrowing to almost nothing beyond them. Her shirt had ridden up slightly and he could see a half inch of creamy skin and he swallowed as he tried to concentrate on just breathing in and out, getting his heart rate back to normal.

He tried to remember when he had last 'relieved' himself. He had found over the years that complete repression was a 'not good' thing to do. The best way to suppress his sexual appetite was through regular habits which meant a once a fortnight ejaculation. It had only been a week ago so he shouldn't be suffering like this.

He stood up so fast he almost knocked the chair over, causing Molly to jump half out of her skin. 'Right, well I can't stay all day. I have enough for now. I'll text you later. Goodbye Molly.'

He picked up the files and left so fast Molly barely had time to mumble a quick 'oh OK' at his retreating back. Used to his strange moods she just shrugged and carried on.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was still worked up (in more ways than one) by the time he got back to Baker St. He made his way up the stairs and flung the files onto the kitchen table before leaning on one side of it, his head down, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

'Oh hello Sherlock, are you back already? I thought you were staying out with Molly all day.'

Sherlock looked up at his landlady irritably, she had just emerged from the bathroom carrying her cleaning stuff in a carry box. 'Well you thought wrong Mrs Hudson. I have more important things to do than help Molly do her filing.'

'Course you do dear, you sit down then and I'll make you a nice cup of tea.'

She eyed him as he made his way to his chair and sat down heavily immediately leaning his elbows on the arms and his chin resting on his hands.

'What's on your mind? Are you missing John?'

'No, of course not.'

'Oh, I expect you probably are. I know you don't like to admit these things but it's natural to feel lonely.'

'I am not lonely.'

'Spending time with Molly, it's good for you. For her too. She hasn't had a boyfriend since she split up with that nice young fella. You know she's probably still holding a torch for you. God knows why. You should snap her up whilst you still can.'

'Mrs Hudson...'

'Oh I know you say you don't care and that you don't need anyone, but you're just as human as the rest of us. You need someone around, it's not healthy talking to that skull, and you could do a lot worse than Molly Hooper. Unless you'd rather have a boyfriend. I couldn't believe it when John said he was marrying a woman but it takes all sorts and Mary's lovely. Maybe that detective you hang around with. He's single now isn't he...'

'MRS HUDSON!'

'Alright no need to shout, I don't know why I'm bothering anyway, you let John slip away and now it'll be Molly. You're not made for relationships are you? Well I'll leave you to it.' She patted him on the arm as she put the tea down by his side before making her way out of the flat.

Sherlock felt a relief in her leaving but a certain churlishness in her last comment. What did she mean he wasn't made for relationships. He could have one if he wanted, he just chose not to. It was the work that was important; the work that mattered wasn't it?

He picked up his cup of tea. If he ever decided to woo Molly Hooper he would be brilliantly at it, of that he was certain. After all he'd seduced Janine and he hadn't even liked her, not sexually anyway. If he decided to seduce Molly he'd have her eating out of his hand in no time.

Before he could stop himself his mind went back to that moment in the filing room. Molly had been so close, he could close his eyes and recall the feel of her slim hips under his hands his thumbs resting on her hip bones. Her mouth had been inches from his own and he imagined what could have happened if he had succumbed to his desire and kissed her.

Was Mrs Hudson right; was there a chance Molly could slip away? How would he even feel about that? He frowned, he needed her in the morgue, but was that all...he certainly hadn't liked it when she had been with that imbecile last year, but why? And anyway, what would be the worst that would happen if he did pursue Molly, her knowledge complimented his own, she would be permanently at his disposal regarding lab and morgue access. A small part of his brain traitorously thought of Molly laid out naked in his bed and he gasped; his eyes snapping open.

He squirmed in his seat, his trousers suddenly tight. Before the last couple of days he had never really considered Molly and sex before and he was surprised by how strong his reaction was to the idea. Even Irene had not elicited a physical reaction; hers was purely a mental one. He had been intrigued by her, she was a puzzle to solve, an attractive puzzle but still just a puzzle. Molly wasn't even particularly attractive. As soon as he thought that he squinted; his eyes, frowning, feeling a sense of discomfort, no she wasn't made up or 'fashionable' but she was sensible, practical. He liked that her make-up was minimal and her hair was simple, she didn't need to look like a painted doll. Molly was pretty, very pretty.

But that brought him back round to Molly and sex and what, if anything he should do. In the end he took the easiest route out. He would do nothing, at least nothing proactive. He could revisit his decision in the future if he should ever feel the need.

He counted without Mrs Hudson's involvement though.

 **Molly's starting to get under his skin, we always knew she would didn't we. Next chapter will hopefully be up Thursday. Until then take care xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, I know I'm rubbish at replying to your reviews but I want you to know that I appreciate each and every one and all the support you offer. I love this fandom. Oh, and congratulations to Benedict I see in today's news that he is to be given a CBE by the Queen :). Brilliant!**

 **As always I own nothing, I just wish I did.**

 **Chapter 4**

Molly only noticed the text after she'd exited the shower, walking into the bedroom towel drying her hair.

 **Meet me in the park SH**

She frowned, that was a very un-Sherlock-like text.

 **Why? Molly x**

It took seconds for the response to come back.

 **Reasons. Meet me by the bandstand at 11am SH**

Molly texted her agreement and then went to the window, opening the curtains, to check out the weather. Even though it was still early the morning had the promise of being a warm spring day, the first of the year. The sky was blue and dotted with cotton wool clouds.

She spent some not inconsiderable time trying to decide what to wear. She'd become more confident around Sherlock in recent months, probably since the time she'd slapped him for relapsing into drug use but she still found herself wanting to look feminine and attractive to him. He normally saw her in the morgue which was not conducive to sexiness...she sighed. Why on earth was she still bothering to try and 'attract' Sherlock. Her head knew it was never going to happen but her heart still refused to catch up.

In the end she picked out an above the knee dress that she really liked, she'd picked it up cheap in the sales the year before, with ankle boots and a warm cardigan. It might look like a summer's day but Molly knew there would still be a chill in the air at times.

She decided to walk over to Baker St. She hadn't needed to ask Sherlock which park he meant there was one at the bottom of his street which she'd often spent time in. She'd never seen Sherlock there; he wasn't much of an outdoors person which explained his permanently white complexion. It did work well with his hair and eyes though...and there went her heart again making her long for the impossible.

She entered the park and saw him leaning against the steps to the bandstand with some kind of box at his feet. He was staring around him with a slight frown in his face, no doubt irritated by the other folk lured out by the combination of a bank holiday and good weather.

He was dressed in his normal fitted, very fitted, black suit with a white shirt open at the neck. Molly felt her heart skip a beat, her stomach plunging a little. Every time...he did this to her every time, it never got any better.

'Hi Sherlock. Why are we meeting here?'

'Finally, what took you so long? Come on let's find somewhere quieter, away from all these idiots.'

He picked up what she now realised was a hamper and set off across the grass away from the bandstand and the children's play park. Molly glanced at her watch, 11.02 and rolled her eyes before running a little to catch up with him.

'I don't know why on earth Mrs Hudson feels the need to spring clean and 'air the flat'. He tried to make air quotes with one hand. 'Every year she does this to me. The first day of good weather and I'm banished from my own flat for twelve hours. It's even worse today with this bank holiday, everywhere is shut, John's still away.'

He huffed as Molly smiled to herself.

'I know she's going to mess with my experiments. I told her not too...' He stopped dead making Molly almost run into the back of him, 'maybe I should go back and check...'

She caught his hand without thinking about what she was doing and pulled him forwards, 'no you don't. If Mrs Hudson wants one day to purge the dust heap you call your flat then let her. I'll help you with any test she might mess up. Come on. I want to see what's in this picnic basket.'

It was then that she realised that not only was she holding her hand but that he hadn't pulled away from her, instead he was holding her hand right back. His palm warm and large against her own; engulfing her much smaller one.

They eventually found a spot near a lake with some trees behind them that was fairly secluded and together they laid out the blanket that was wedged on the top of the basket. Once done Sherlock kicked off his shoes and lay down.

'So, why on earth are you wearing a dress suit Sherlock. Surely jeans would have been more appropriate?'

'You are assuming Molly that I own a pair, which I most decidedly do not. At least I have a pair for when I'm undercover as a homeless person but I don't think even you would appreciate the stench.'

Molly scrunched up her face, 'even me?'

He rolled his eyes and looked at her, 'don't be obtuse Molly. You work with the dead; you come into contact with all kinds of disgusting and noxious smells.'

In acknowledgement of Molly's comment he did remove his jacket and laid it down neatly by his side. He opened up the top of the hamper and removed some of the files from the previous day. 'I thought we could go through these whilst we're here. No point wasting the day.'

Molly giggled as she looked out at the blue skies and the sunlight rippling off the lake in front of her. Only Sherlock could class such a view as a waste. She shrugged off her cardigan, closed her eyes and leant back on her elbows, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face for the first time in months. She enjoyed winter and Christmas, wrapping up warm, seeing snow and sitting by an open fire, but it had been a long time since she'd felt the sun and she was more than ready to enjoy it.

Sherlock meanwhile was being distracted from his work by the sight of Molly reclining beside him, her face offered up to the sun like a sacrifice, her hair loose and falling down until it pooled on the blanket beneath her.

Her neck was a slim column leading down to her chest and the gentle swell of her breasts. He could see them rise and fall with her breathing and his tongue moved in his mouth as he imagined it rolling around her nipple. He groaned and had to quickly turn it into a cough as Molly looked at him with quick concern, 'are you OK?' He brushed her off so instead she sat upright and started hunting through the hamper for some water for him.

It was with a slightly bemused expression that she pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Sherlock who had now somewhat recovered himself just explained it away with a quick, 'Mrs Hudson,' before he bent his head and pretended to read the file, internally berating himself for his sudden lapse.

'Do you fancy a glass then?' Molly had uncorked the bottle and was pouring herself some. Sherlock just nodded not quite trusting himself to speak. Molly passed the glass over to him, picking up another of the files and they sat in silence as they went through them just pointing out odd details, querying test results.

Sherlock hadn't realised he had been drinking his wine until Molly topped it up for him and by the time he finished that glass he was conscious of a slight impairment in his neural functioning. He thought back to when he had last eaten but it had been over 24 hours, not good when drinking.

Molly was already eating a slice of a pie that she had found in the hamper so Sherlock threw down his current file and opened the lid to see what else there was. He pulled out the pork pie, a box of pasta salad and some scones with little pots of jam and cream. Molly perked up, 'ooh scones, I love those. Do you want to share one?'

Sherlock nodded and sat back watching Molly slice the scones in half before covering them in a generous helping of jam and cream. She found a couple of plastic plates and handed one to Sherlock along with his half of the scone. He took a bite and watched Molly do the same. He smirked at her not noticing that she had a smudge of cream on the end of her nose.

Without thinking he leant forward and wiped it off with the pad of his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and licking it off. Molly squeaked in surprise but he couldn't help but notice how her eyes dilated as she watched him put his thumb to his mouth. He had a sudden urge to repeat the move so when she brought her scone up to her mouth again he purposefully jostled her so cream once again went on her face, 'hey, no fair. You did that on purpose.' She looked at him and he couldn't help but laugh at the angry expression coupled with a smear of cream on her cheek.

'Sorry, couldn't resist. Here, let me help.' Once again he used his thumb to wipe up the cream and deposit it in his mouth.

Molly narrowed her eyes, 'well two can play at that game.' She put her finger into the pot of clotted cream and leant towards Sherlock's face.

He leant away from her as she advance and just at the point that she was leaning over him and about to put the cream on his face he caught her wrist and forced her hand to his mouth. He sucked her finger into his mouth relishing the taste of the cream mixed with her skin whilst at the same time he suddenly realised how compromised they both were. He was lying back on the rug, Molly was straddling one of his legs and leaning over him. He had one arm round her waist holding her too him and the other around her wrist holding her finger in his mouth.

Her eyes were so dilated they were almost black and she had a light blush across her cheeks and her chest, her breathing was becoming as erratic as he realised his was. He felt as though they were on the cusp of something but he didn't know what, all he knew was he didn't want this moment to end so he slid his hand up her back and as he let go of her wrist and her finger he pulled her in for a kiss.

Molly wasn't quite sure either what had happened or how they had reached this position but she was completely unable and unwilling to get out of it. One minute she had been eating her scone and the next she was threatening him with some cream, and now...now they were kissing. She'd seen the look in his eyes change as he grabbed her wrist and used his mouth to suck off the cream. One minute he was playful the next it was pure lust. She had never seen that look on his face before but it was one of the most arousing sights she had ever seen.

She had been stopped in her tracks unsure of how to proceed when he had just pulled her to him and kissed her. Her mouth had opened to him immediately. This was no nervous or fumbling first kiss, this was passionate and needy and she knew she was moaning as the kiss developed but it was as though she had no control over her reactions.

She had wanted this for so long and it was like floodgates opening. She clutched at his shirt as though holding onto a life raft. His tongue was in her mouth fighting with hers, one hand in her hair holding her head in place and the other now on her thigh under the skirt of her dress, his hand warm on her skin, not moving just there.

She felt dizzy, as though she needed to breathe but she didn't want this kiss to end. She was fully aware how out of character this was for Sherlock and she also knew there was a strong possibility he might never do this again and it was too good; he was too good.

Eventually it had to end though as they broke apart both breathing heavily neither really making eye contact with the other.

 **So finally things are hotting up a little between our favourite couple. Next update will be Sunday so until then have a great weekend.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So my first shout out is a congratulations to Benedict on becoming a father, I don't envy him having to cope with a newborn and Hamlet preparations. I remember having to function on a couple of hours of broken sleep and it's not good.**

 **Second congrats go to Stephen Moffatt OBE, so very, very well-deserved. We just need to hope that Mark gets one next...for being the British Government of course ;).**

 **As for my story thank you all for your reactions, I love receiving your comments. So post-kiss how do we find our favourite couple...read on.**

 **Chapter 5**

They broke apart breathing heavily each avoiding eye contact. Molly sat back up until she realised that she was effectively sat on Sherlock's thigh.

She scrabbled to move backwards and off him but he sat up himself and caught her waist, 'no wait, Molly...I...'

'It's OK Sherlock, I get it. I'm sorry, it...it won't happen again.'

He frowned letting her go back to her side of the picnic blanket. Did she think that somehow this was her fault? That he was disappointed that it had happened. Yes he was surprised, but he wasn't sorry. By the time he'd thought this through and looked up she was stood up and pulling on her cardigan.

'I...I should go. Let me know if you find anything in the files.' She walked away and Sherlock watched her leave feeling numb. Should he go after her or let her leave, he shouldn't do nothing, why was he doing nothing. He sat watching until she finally moved out of sight, then he fell back onto the blanket and sighed. He closed his eyes remembering the feel of her slight body leaning over him, resting on his chest. Her lips warm against his own, the taste of jam and cream and wine making a heady mix.

He hadn't wanted that kiss to end and he certainly hadn't wanted Molly to leave so why had he let her. One word niggled at the back of his mind and he hated it...fear. Fear of letting her in, fear of acknowledging that he had feelings, fear over how this would affect his life and his work, his image of himself. He punched the blanket in frustration before standing up, throwing the food and plates and files back into the hamper, pouring the wine away and scrunching up the blanket.

He started to make his way back to Baker St. before realising with a grunt of anger that Mrs Hudson would still be in full flow with the cleaning. He stood for a moment trying to decide where he should go.

He could waste his time in a coffee shop, going through the files. He could even impose himself on Mycroft, so why did he find himself walking to Molly's flat?

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly couldn't believe he had just let her go like that. No, that was wrong Molly could absolutely believe that he had let her go like that. She knew he would think the kiss was a mistake. She still wasn't sure quite how it had happened but of course he would have thought it a mistake.

Trouble was she couldn't get it out if her mind. She walked on auto pilot making her way through the park and towards home, completely oblivious now to the people around her, the sun on her face, the enjoyment of a bank holiday. All she could think about was the memory of kissing Sherlock; it was seared into her brain. It had quite simply been the best kiss of her life.

She gave a choked sob as she finally made it home and ran up the stairs to the door of her flat. She opened the door and as it shut behind her she slid down to the floor leaning against the door and biting on her knuckle to stop herself from crying. She didn't want this to change their friendship but how could it not. He probably wouldn't even want to spend time with her anymore and how could she look at him knowing how good that kiss had been and how she would never get the chance to kiss him again.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and lay her head on her knees. Her eyes were scrunched shut as she willed herself not to cry again over Sherlock Holmes. At least if it never happened again she had this one good memory to sustain her.

It was at that point that there was a hammering on the door behind her. Molly jumped out of her skin and then froze wondering who it could be.

'Molly, I know you're there. Let me in.'

Sherlock! She sighed and stood up brushing her dress down as she did and swiping her hand under each eye trying not to look too upset.

She swung the door open surprising Sherlock who had his fist raised ready to knock again.

He barged past her into the front room depositing the hamper in the hallway as he went.

'You ran off too fast Molly. You didn't give me a chance to explain.' He ran a hand through his hair causing Molly to shiver slightly at the sight. He was always so impossibly sexy and he had absolutely no idea.

'It's fine Sherlock, you don't need to explain. It was just one if those things, the wine, the sunshine. I got carried away, I'm sorry.'

'Well, that's fine and would make perfect sense except you didn't kiss me did you? I kissed you.' He stared her down.

'I...but...why...that makes no sense, why would you kiss me?'

'Because I wanted to. There's no other reason. Because at that exact moment I wanted to...and I still do.'

'Oh...but...but you've never wanted to before. I mean, you've never seemed to have feelings for me before. Is this just a physical thing?' Molly held her breath not really sure whether she wanted to know the answer to that or not.

Sherlock paced around his hands creating pictures in the air as he spoke, 'I thought so...at first. Hoped so even. A physical need is easy to overcome and control. But no, I'm coming to realise that I...have feelings for you Molly. Feelings that I think I would like to explore.' He faltered slightly as he looked at her almost shyly, 'I'm just not sure how to, relationships, emotions, they aren't things I'm either comfortable or familiar with.'

He let his arms drop to his sides and watched as Molly processed what he had said. He could see shock, the confusion, the suspicion all pass across her expressive, wonderful face.

She crossed her arms over her chest inadvertently framing it for him. He tried to keep his eyes on her face; he had been brought up a gentleman after all. He could immediately see she was not going to believe this easily.

'What do you want Sherlock? I would have thought we were past all these games.' She said the words quietly and he couldn't bear the sad look upon her face. He stepped forward not quite sure what he was doing, acting on instinct.

'The only thing I want, Molly, is you.' He reached up and put the palm of his hand on her face his thumb sliding along her cheek bone.

She stepped back out of reach, 'I don't believe you. I think you should leave.'

'Molly, please...'

She half turned away from him and he knew it was so he couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes.

'No, Molly, I'm not going anywhere.'

'Fine, then I will.' With that she walked across the short distance to what he presumed was her bedroom. She made her way inside and slammed the door behind her.

He sat down heavily on the small settee, 'well that went well'. He rubbed his face not sure how to proceed. It appeared that they had reached an impasse but he was reluctant to walk away and give things time. Patience was really not his strong suit and now he had succumbed to his feelings for Molly he was eager for more.

He knew he had the upper hand here if he were just to wait her out. She had neither a kitchen nor a bathroom in her bedroom whereas he had access to both plus he also had nowhere else to be.

It was an inconvenience, of course, having to make his own coffee but make it he did, then he sat back down and flicked on the TV. He was pleased to see a rerun of some Jeremy Kyle shows and he settled down to enjoy them.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly, meanwhile, was sat in her bedroom feeling somewhat flummoxed. How had she ended up trapped in her own bedroom, in her own flat?

She'd changed out of her dress into an old pair of comfy sweat pants and a t shirt and she'd fully expected at any time to hear Sherlock leave the flat. Instead she could hear the television and at regular intervals the man in question shouting at it vociferously.

She sat on the edge of her bed and wondered how on earth they had come to this. She was convinced he couldn't have any real feelings for her so what did he want and why was he still here.

The real stinger though was that her traitorous brain and body kept going back to that moment where he had cupped her cheek and told her that the only thing he wanted was her. She really, truly wanted to believe him, it was her every fantasy come true but that was it, it was a fantasy. Sherlock never could and never would have feelings for her, she knew that. She'd lived with that for over five years now and he'd never given her any reason to believe differently.

The thing which upset her the most was that she'd thought that they were friends. If he wanted something from her why didn't he just ask, what had she ever denied him? There was no need for him to be so cruel.

She bit her lip and looked at the door, not only was she thirsty but she needed the loo as well, that wine had gone straight through her; it always did. She hadn't really thought things through when she'd stomped off to her room but she was beginning to see that Sherlock had the whip hand and she was going to have to be the one to fold.

 _Fine, fine, let's do this then_.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock smiled to himself when he heard the bedroom door open. Molly gave him an embarrassed glance as she quickly made her way across to the bathroom.

She exited a few minutes later and passed him as she went to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water. She knew he was watching her every move and it made her feel self-conscious in a way that she hadn't in recent years. She stumbled a bit on her way into the kitchen and spilt some of her water on the way back out.

She sat on the chair and turned to face him, 'why are you still here Sherlock?'

He looked at her as sincerely as he possibly could, 'because there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now Molly.'

 **The next two chapters have come out a bit short but I don't want to combine them so to compensate I'll post them both this week, maybe one Wednesday and one Friday, so long as work doesn't interfere. Until then please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here I am back again. I hear in the real world that Ben is now prepping for Hamlet. I'm not able to see it live but am looking forward to seeing the NT Live showing in October. I'm sure he'll be brilliant in the role.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews and favourites and follows, as ever I own nothing.**

 **Chapter 6**

Molly sat quietly for a minute or two sipping on her water and casting surreptitious glances towards Sherlock every so often. He seemed to have gone back to being engrossed in his TV show. She brought her knees up to her chest as she sat on the chair and tried to resist biting her nails, always a bad habit when she was stressed.

'Sherlock?'

He glanced towards her and then muted the TV, 'Molly.'

'We're friends aren't we? At least I hope we are. Please don't be cruel; I need you to be honest with me.'

He sat forward resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He held eye contact with her before he replied, 'Molly, I'm being as honest as I can be. I can't guarantee that we will work as a couple; I can't guarantee that I will be any good at any of this. But I know you're in love with me and I seem to have developed feelings for you too...isn't that worth exploring?'

She bit the inside of her mouth nervously, 'and you're not just faking, you're not making this up?'

'I promise I'm not making this up.'

'So what do we do now?'

He sat back on the settee, 'I don't know, Molly, I'm hardly the expert here, though it pains me to admit that. How about we just be ourselves and see what happens?'

Molly thought for a second before nodding her head once, 'OK, shall we go through those files then and see if we can find any cases similar to my dad's?'

Sherlock grinned, 'I thought you'd never ask. We can eat Mrs Hudson's pie whilst we do.'

Molly got them a couple of clean plates whilst Sherlock fished the files out of the picnic basket, along with a slightly dented pie. He hadn't really been very thoughtful when he'd thrown it all back in. They avoided the bit with cream smeared down the side and started to go through the possible cases for similarities to Molly's dad.

Molly had sat next to Sherlock on the settee and was very conscious of his close proximity. She'd always felt it when he was close but this new understanding between them was heightening her senses. She could smell his cologne which was woody and spicy; it almost made her mouth water. When he spoke she found herself watching his lips remembering how they felt on her own. She could feel the heat of his body where his thigh almost touched with hers.

She tried to concentrate on the files but it was almost impossible, the words seemed to blur and dance before her eyes. In the end she couldn't take it any longer.

'Sherlock.'

'Hmm,' he looked across at her briefly before seeing the expression on her face. She knew she had to act before she lost her courage so she leant forward and cupped his face in a similar way to the way he had held hers earlier. She relished the feel of him, his skin was warm and she watched as his eyes moved to her lips. She moved closer and kissed him.

It felt just as right as it had at the picnic although this time it started quite chastely as though they were kissing for the first time. It wasn't long though before her longing and desire for him took over. She gripped the back of his neck with one hand and moved the other into his delicious curls. They felt as soft and silky as she had always dreamt they would. She tugged at them and heard him groan in return, his mouth opening and drawing her further into the kiss. She could feel her need for him threatening to overwhelm her, making her dizzy. She had wanted this, wanted him for so long and she could hardly believe that they were here making out; as though they were teenagers in her mum's front room.

He pulled her onto his knee one hand round her back and the other on her thigh rubbing tiny circles which caused shivers of need through her body. She wanted to have sex with him, to feel him inside her but it went against all her previous morals. She had never slept with anyone on a first...this wasn't even a date...but God she wanted him.

Her hands shakily made their way to the buttons on his shirt but he broke off the kiss, breathing heavily and caught her hands, 'I...I'm not ready for that, not yet.'

She smiled, trying not to let her disappointment show, but who was she kidding this was Sherlock he saw everything.

'I'm sorry,' he said as he moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, 'I know you're disappointed but I'd rather take things slow. It's been a long time since I...indulged. We need to be sure before we take that step, don't you agree?'

She knew he was right, if they were meant to be then waiting wouldn't change anything. And if they weren't...Molly tried to quash that thought. She didn't want to play the needy, clingy girlfriend, she never had and she wouldn't start now, not even for Sherlock.

'That's fine, I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for. Doesn't mean we can't push the boundaries a little though does it.' She smiled at him in a way he had never seen before and he suddenly realised that Molly was no shrinking violet in the bedroom. His jaw dropped a little as she proceeded to unbutton his shirt and pull it from his trousers. She pushed him back against the settee and swept her hands along the skin of his stomach up to his chest and his shoulders, then she leant down and licked his right nipple before sucking it into her mouth.

Until that exact moment he had never realised that men's nipples could be sensitive too. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation of Molly kissing and licking and occasionally biting his chest and stomach.

She made her way back up to his neck and throat taking her time before she caught his mouth for another kiss. He was almost beginning to question his previous decision about going slow when his phone rang. He could tell it was Lestrade by the ring tone. Molly quickly moved off his lap allowing Sherlock to find and answer his phone.

'Tell me.'

Sherlock stood up and paced around Molly's flat whilst she watched him, biting on her lip and smiling to herself. He looked so gorgeously dishevelled with his hair sticking up, his shirt hanging open and his neck showing early signs of a love bite.

'Right I'll meet you there in ten minutes. And tell Donovan her theory is ridiculous, she shouldn't embarrass herself like that in public.'

He hung up and put the phone back in his jacket whilst he started to button his shirt back up.

'Got to go, murder down near Embankment, throat cut and strange symbols carved into the chest. You'll do the autopsy won't you, Mike's alright but you know you're better. I'll text you when they're ready to bring the body in. Right see you later.'

He swung out of the flat in a whirlwind leaving Molly speechless on the settee. Looks like she was due in work soon. She sighed and let her head fall back onto the sofa thinking back to Sherlock lying here just a few minutes before. Was she really heading into a relationship with Sherlock after all these years?

She hoped so.

 **Sorry this ended up being such a short chapter I had a problem with editing and saving and anyway...to make up for it I'll post the next chapter in a couple of days.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, such a good reaction to such a short chapter. Thank you each and every one for your responses. I'm glad you're all enjoying it so far. As for this chapter on editing I think I ought to change to an M rating just to be safe. I'm never quite sure how much you can push a T and I don't want to offend anyone.**

 **Chapter 7**

Three hours later she was in the morgue with the body. It definitely looked like some kind of ritual killing, possibly gang related, maybe more serious. Sherlock and Greg were arguing about the next course of action.

'If this IS a serial killer Sherlock I need to let the Chief Super know. This isn't something I can keep to myself, I don't care what your plan is I just can't.'

'If too many people know this will go on much longer than it needs to. Those symbols relate to justice and the police, I think it's a fellow officer and we need to keep it quiet. We need to go to Scotland Yard, I want to go through some of your historical records from the fifties in particular.'

He was about to leave when he seemed to hesitate. He made his way back to where Molly was stood washing her hands. Greg waited patiently at the door, texting on his phone.

Sherlock stood close behind Molly with his hands on her hips and his head almost on her shoulder. He kissed her just below her ear, 'sorry we got interrupted earlier. Looks as though I'll be inconveniently tied up this evening, maybe you could come to Baker St. tomorrow night?'

Molly leaned into him and smiled, 'OK, I'll come round about 7.00?'

'Til then Molly Hooper.' He kissed her lightly on the cheek before heading back towards Lestrade who had just looked up from his phone and wondered all of a sudden if he had missed something important. Had Sherlock just kissed Molly Hooper?

He cocked his head to one side, 'is everything alright Sherlock?'

'Yes Grant why wouldn't it be...come on I'd really like to get this wrapped up sooner rather than later. I actually have better things to do with my time at the moment.' As he walked out of the door he gave Molly a quick smirk and a wink dragging a slightly confused Detective Inspector behind him.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

True to his word Sherlock texted her the next day to confirm that he had indeed solved the case and would therefore be free for their 'date' that evening. It was Molly who was calling it a date, Sherlock had just said _our meeting_ which didn't sound half as much fun. She had dressed carefully for work today and had already had a couple of comments about how nice she looked, she had also been freezing for most of her time in the morgue though.

She'd even put on her best underwear, better safe than sorry. She knew Sherlock wanted to take it slow but she was ever hopeful.

When she arrived he was busy looking through the microscope on his kitchen table. He glanced up as she walked in. 'Good you're here, there's wine in the fridge help yourself and take out menus in the drawer to the right of the sink. I'll be finished here in ten minutes.'

Molly found a couple of glasses and poured them both some wine, she was feeling a little nervous and in need of some Dutch courage to get her through the evening.

As she browsed the menus and sipped at her wine she watched Sherlock working.

'Anything interesting, I know it's not a body part as I'm not missing any at the moment.'

He smirked without looking up, 'no, I'm continuing my study into types of tobacco ash. This is a really unusual kind from a small village in Cuba. It's taken me years to get a sample but it was worth it.'

Molly raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes slightly. She had many overlapping interests with Sherlock but tobacco ash wasn't one of them. A few minutes later and he threw his pen down and pushed away from the table.

'Mmmm so what do we have here, dressed for romance rather than the morgue and wearing your newest set of lingerie going by the way you keep fiddling with the bra strap. You also didn't eat at lunch which means you're starving now, a sign of nerves maybe. But why are you nervous?' He tilted his head to the side as he walked towards her.

Molly suddenly felt like she was prey being stalked by a predator but she stood her ground lifting her chin and smiling at him, 'hmm let's see why do you think I might be nervous? First date with the world's only Consulting Detective who also tells people he's a high-functioning sociopath. Wouldn't that be enough to make most girls a bit nervous?'

He was stood right in front of her by now staring her down but not touching her at all. She could almost feel the electricity passing between them.

She smiled and looked up at him disarming him completely, 'you're not though.'

He frowned, 'not what?'

'You're not a high functioning sociopath. You have feelings Mr Holmes and that doesn't match with the diagnosis.'

'So you don't think I'm dangerous?'

He caught hold of Molly's ponytail and wrapped it round his hand. He pulled on it lightly until her head tilted up towards him. Molly's heart rate sped up making her breathing heavy, she could feel a burst of adrenaline fuel her arousal. His eyes were dark with lust and she desperately wanted him to kiss her.

She let her hands slide up his chest and she leaned into him, 'I think you can definitely be dangerous when you need to be.'

He bent his head slowly to hers watching her every reaction to him. He had never felt so turned on by a woman as he did at this moment with Molly. She was urging him on; her nails scraping along his chest.

It was almost a relief when their mouths finally came together; they clung to each other as the chemistry between them seemed to boil over. This kiss was neither slow nor cautious it was pure, aggressive passion. He could feel Molly pressed up against him and it fuelled his emotions and the physical reactions which had been growing since the moment she'd stepped foot in the flat.

Within moments his tongue was deep in her mouth, hers in his neither knowing where one started and the other finished. He picked her up easily sitting her on the kitchen side before slotting himself between her open legs. Then he pulled her hard against him. They both gasped and broke the kiss momentarily as they relished the feelings each gave to the other.

Molly was almost rubbing herself against him searching for friction which he was only to happy to give. His hands were on her shirt almost tearing the buttons off in his desire to feel her skin under his.

She helped him remove it quickly followed by her bra then he pulled back enjoying the view of her leaning back on the counter her nipples reacting to her arousal and the cold air they'd suddenly been thrust into.

Slowly now he palmed each breast before lowering his head to suck and bite her right nipple. He felt her hands run themselves into his hair holding him in place as she moaned at the assault. His senses were filled with her, the feel of her, the taste of her, every sound she made. Which was why he didn't notice the door downstairs open and close or the light footsteps on the staircase.

It was only when John started to talk as he entered the flat that either of them noticed.

'Hey Sherlock, I'm back. You'll never believe the text I got from Greg...oh!'

At the last minute Sherlock had turned and tucked Molly, who had slid off the counter, behind him. She frantically tried to find her clothing whilst Sherlock smoothed his hair back into place.

'John...I didn't expect to see you today.'

'I...err...I'm gathering that. Is that Molly Hooper?'

John had obviously taken a step to one side to try to look past Sherlock because he altered his position slightly moving to the right to block him.

'Sorry, sorry I'll turn round.' John turned away mouthing a silent 'what the hell' to himself as he did.

Sherlock quickly turned back to Molly who had put her shirt back on and was busy buttoning it back up. He handed her her bra which she stuck in her pocket.

'I should go, you probably want to catch up with John.' She made to walk past him.

He scowled holding her arm. 'Not particularly, you don't have to go.'

'Thank Sherlock, thanks a lot I'm stood right here you know.' John turned back with his arms crossed across his chest.

'It's OK, I'll see you tomorrow?'

Sherlock frowned at her, feeling frustrated, but he nodded once and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

She was still blushing furiously as she made her way out of the door saying a quick 'hey' to John as she did.

They both waited until they heard the door bang downstairs and then Sherlock grumpily made his way to the window to watch her walk away down Baker St. Her ponytail swinging tauntingly behind her as she went.

He huffed and then flung himself into his chair before looking up at John who seemed to be waiting expectantly.

'What?' He picked up his violin and started to pluck absentmindedly at the strings whilst he thought back a few moments ago, before John had so rudely interrupted them. He had been looking forward to making Molly orgasm, he'd been thinking about how to achieve it all day.

'You know I thought it was a joke when Greg texted to say he thought something was going on between you two but then I come here and...Sherlock promise me this is not Janine all over again.'

'Don't be stupid John it doesn't suit you. Why on earth would this be like Janine?'

'Well because I seem to remember you telling me that you were married to your work. What's changed?'

Sherlock was quiet as he contemplated his answer, 'everyone changes don't they? Why would I be any different? You may think I'm a machine but I'm not. I need more from life, work isn't enough anymore and anyway Molly complements my job, she won't hinder me.'

John sat down opposite him, 'this isn't just about lab access is it, because it wouldn't be fair. You know how she feels about you, you must know and...Sherlock...you could really hurt her.'

'I know John, I know.' He fell silent before he looked back up at John, 'I don't want to hurt her John, that is not and never will be my intention. I find I have feelings for Molly...isn't it worth our while exploring them, to see if they become...more.'

John listened to his friend admit feelings for someone for the first time. He smiled at him, 'yes I suppose it is. Now do you need advice on contraception?'

He laughed and ducked as Sherlock threw a slipper at him.

 **Next update on Sunday and don't worry Sherlock hasn't forgotten the case Molly brought to him. There will be a revelation next chapter which rocks Molly to the core! Speculations in a review please.**

 **Next chapter will be up Sunday.**


	8. Chapter 8

**So it seems poor John has been renamed John Hamish Cockblocker Watson by you guys and quite right too. As for speculations I have to give a special mention to OohLaLee who came up with such a unique tale about Sally Donovan and her evil twin; I only wish I had written something that cool! Read on and you'll find out what I came up with, it's not half as much fun.**

 **Thanks you, as ever, for your ongoing support. As a fandom we rock!**

 **Chapter 8**

The next day Molly received an ominous text from Sherlock.

 **We need to talk SH**

She felt her stomach roil with anxiety. Had he changed his mind already? Had John talked him out of a relationship with her? She was only glad that it was her day off so she quickly replied to say she would be over in fifteen minutes.

She was almost tempted to take a cab over to Baker St. But she was really strapped for cash this month. Her mum desperately needed a new boiler and whilst she had a grant for part of the cost, due to her financial situation, it had fallen on Molly to find the rest of the money needed. She hated seeing her Mum go without since her Dad had died but it was still a struggle to maintain two households, especially when one was in London. Neither could she afford to leave London as her post at Barts was well sought after and anyway London was where Sherlock was, he needed her, how could she ever leave him.

That brought her back round to his text message. _It could mean anything. There's no point worrying until there's something to worry about._ She smiled to herself, hearing her dad's voice in her head.

'Hi Sherlock, I'm here. What did you need to discuss?'

Sherlock was stood in front of the fireplace wearing a housecoat over his shirt and trousers. He looked delectable and Molly bit her lip trying not to stare.

'Ah good. Sit down please we need to discuss something.'

He gestured at the settee and Molly sat, perched on the edge, feeling even more nervous than before. He seemed so serious.

He came over and sat next to her, turning his body slightly to face her.

'Molly...I've been through the rest of the files from the morgue.'

Molly felt a surge of relief rush through her, 'oh great, what did you find?'

'Out of the ten we identified initially, there were three that seem to fit the same profile as your fathers, medicine that should have been present had been withheld. I think it's time we turned the information over to Scotland Yard.'

'OK. I suppose we have to. Will you talk to Greg?'

He frowned slightly, 'who? Oh I take it you mean Lestrade. Is that his name? Yes, yes I can talk to him.'

This time it was Molly's turn to frown, 'hang on. There's something else isn't there. Something you're not telling me. If you've now got four files you'll know which staff overlap all four cases. You know who the killer is don't you?'

Sherlock looked away from Molly towards the kitchen and nodded his head once, 'I have a good idea. As I say it needs to be handled by the authorities now. I'll take the files to Greg this afternoon. Maybe afterwards we can meet up after for coffee or food or something?'

She used her hand to turn his face back round so he was looking at her, 'Sherlock, what aren't you telling me? Who is it? I need to know.'

He sighed and seemed to make a decision, 'it's your friend Meena.'

Molly felt the room around her tilt a little, she shook her head frowning again, 'what...no, don't be ridiculous. Why on earth would you say such a thing?'

'Molly, when did you first meet her?'

She squared her shoulders, her hands in fists in her lap, 'I met her at Barts, when my dad was in. She was one, JUST ONE of the nurses who attended him. She helped me understand what was happening, it was because of her that I knew the end was coming and it was because of her that I got to say goodbye in time. Then afterwards she helped, she even came to the funeral for God's sake! It can't be her. You've obviously made a mistake.' By the end she was almost shouting at Sherlock.

'She needs to be needed. It's her thing. You just gave her extra. She saw your need, saw that you had no one else to rely on...'

Molly stood up suddenly, 'NO, you do not get to say these things. You don't understand, how could YOU ever understand need and friendship and love. You're just cold and hard and calculating and you miss something. I've heard you say it, you always miss something and you've missed something this time.'

Sherlock stood up with her and struggled to know how to respond to such an emotional outburst. He reached out to her but she twisted away her face marred by anger. In the end all he could manage was a single, beseeching 'Molly' before she stormed out of the flat and slammed the door behind her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Two weeks later Sherlock was sat opposite John in Baker St. enjoying tea and some of Mrs Hudson's fairy cakes. At least John was enjoying them

'So it really was Molly's friend Meena?' John asked through a mouthful of cake.

Sherlock opened his eyes but maintained his prayer pose 'Yes, she soon admitted it once the police laid out the evidence. She's been responsible for another ten deaths on top of those that Molly and I uncovered. The details will be hitting the media any day now but hopefully we'll be kept out of it.'

'And you really haven't seen Molly since you told her?'

He was convinced he saw Sherlock's expression harden somewhat at the mention of Molly. He knew his friend was hurting but he hadn't quite got to the bottom of what had happened between them.

'Molly made her feelings perfectly clear. As I recall she said I was cold, hard and calculating and that I wouldn't ever understand need or friendship or love. I think that's clear enough isn't it?' He closed his eyes and missed the smile and shake of John's head.

'Oh come on, you didn't take her words seriously did you? She was hurt and upset, she'd just found out the person she had thought was one of her closest friends had actually killed her father. Even you must know that we lash out at those we're closest too when we're hurt.'

'That makes no sense John why on earth would she do that.'

'Mate, you have a lot to learn about women. Is that why you haven't been to Barts or been to see her? You great dolt.' He glanced at his watch before standing, brushing off the cake crumbs. 'Right well I'm going home to Mary, I suggest you get yourself over to Molly's and apologise for not going over sooner. I'll be round as normal tomorrow and if you're not here I'll know it went well.' He laughed at Sherlock's bemused expression as he made his way out of the flat.

Sherlock sat and mulled over what John had said. Could he really have misunderstood Molly's words? He'd took her quite literally when she had shouted at him but emotions weren't his strong point and he did always missed something. And he missed Molly, it had been like a physical ache in his stomach since that moment that she had walked out.

He hadn't expected it or welcomed it but it seemed his feelings for Molly ran deeper than even he had realised, which meant it was worth a try. It was worth a visit to her flat even if it meant further rejection. Decision made he rose to find his coat and jacket.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly had had a nightmare two weeks. She'd spent a week of it at her mums trying to help her mum come to terms with the news that her husband had actually been murdered. That had not been an easy time.

She'd even tried to speak to Meena, once she'd come to terms with the fact that Sherlock was right, but Meena had refused to see her and even Lestrade couldn't intervene and change her mind.

So Molly was just left with questions that couldn't be answered. Why her dad? Why her? Why had Meena felt this need to accelerate their deaths? And to befriend her, to witness her grief at the time of his death and at every anniversary since? Molly had thought she was her friend but she couldn't have been more wrong.

She poured herself another glass of wine and sat back down on the settee where she'd sat every night since she'd got back from her mums three days ago. Mike had been really good, giving her time off but she was due back in a couple of days and she really wasn't sure how she was going to handle it.

To top it all she hadn't heard a thing from Sherlock since that awful day in his flat. She didn't expect to hear from him either after the horrible things she had said to him. He must hate her.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't hear the knock on the door, but she did notice when she heard the lock turning and the door opening. She was on her feet in a moment, panic sitting low in her stomach. She peered round the corner into the corridor only to find Sherlock closing the door behind him.

'What the hell Sherlock, did you just break into my flat? You scared the life out of me.'

'You didn't answer. I knew you were in though from the lights. Your lock was remarkably easy to pick Molly we need to get that fixed.'

Molly took a deep breath and ignored his gripes about her lock, 'why are you here Sherlock?'

He moved forward until he was in the small front room with her. Now that he was here he wasn't quite sure what to say, he was way out of his comfort zone, 'John told me that I may have been wrong in taking your last words to me literally. He said you were possibly just lashing out because you were upset. He said I should come and see you.'

Molly smiled briefly, 'looks like John had quite a lot to say.'

Sherlock looked at her, feeling nervous all of a sudden, 'was he right? Did you mean what you said...that I was incapable of having feelings?'

Molly saw his uncertainty and felt like she'd had an epiphany. This was his biggest fear; that he couldn't feel like other people could, that he was different somehow and always would be. She had barely meant those words when she had said them and certainly hadn't believed them. John had been right; she was scared and hurt and just wanted the truth about Meena to be wrong, for Sherlock to be wrong. She had never meant to hurt him or push him away but she had.

'Oh Sherlock, I'm so sorry for what I said. Of course I don't think you're not capable of feeling. I know you care about John and Mrs Hudson, even Mycroft.' She smiled sadly at him.

'And you Molly...I care about you. I...I've missed spending time with you, being with you. I want to get past this, if we can, and go back to being us. I...' He bit his lip and seemed to straighten his shoulders as though making a decision about something, 'I love you.'

Molly's mouth fell open at his confession. She brought her hand up to her mouth and knew her eyes were glistening. He had just said the words she had never, ever expected to hear him say. Even when they had started their fledgling relationship she had never really expected it to work or for him to admit to serious feelings for her.

He stepped forward and brought his hand up to her face. She leant into his touch and closed her eyes briefly. When she reopened them he held her gaze and moved his face to hers, as he got closer she saw his lips part and his eyes close and then they were kissing and it was as though they had never been apart.

She felt his arms wrap around her pulling her close and she held onto the lapels of his Belstaff feeling the rough wool under her fingers and she wanted him, more than ever she wanted him.

 **So the next chapter is the last one and be warned, here there will be smut!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here we are with another final chapter. It always amazes me that I've written another story and completed it. I'm so glad that you've all enjoyed it so much, and honestly when I started writing it I didn't see it as being more than a couple of chapters but once again Sherlock and Molly had different ideas.**

 **But honestly when I came to write this chapter I was having a bit of a writer's block on what direction to take the smut in. So I asked my friend lilsherlockian1975 to name the position. She had various choices; let's see what she picked...**

 **Lastly, I just need to clarify once and for all that I own nothing.**

 **Chapter 9**

Sherlock was feeling just as aroused as Molly was. He was under no illusions that he was ready and willing to have sex with Molly right here, right now. He had had enough with waiting, with taking his time.

He felt the kiss deepening and could feel Molly unbalanced on her tiptoes holding onto his coat. He walked her backwards until her back hit the wall of the hallway and he couldn't help but press himself against her letting her feel how much he needed her.

She responded by pushing his coat off his shoulders. He let go of her long enough for it to thud to the floor. In turn he pulled her t shirt up and over her head and was glad to see that his deduction had been right and she wasn't wearing anything under it. He bent down until he was able to take her breast into his mouth hearing as well as feeling her hum of satisfaction. Her hands wove themselves into his hair sending shocks across his scalp that seemed to link to nerves directly in his groin.

He felt ready for her but wanted her to be just as ready for him. It may have been a while since he had had sex but he was no virgin and he wanted Molly to enjoy this as much as he intended doing. He knelt to the floor and undid her trousers.

He looked up at her briefly as he pulled them down along with her pants, seeing her wide eyes staring down at him. She seemed unsure, as though she couldn't quite believe what he was about to do.

He kissed the top of her naked thigh and heard her groan. The sound was delicious and made his mouth water with need. Her hands tightened their grip on his hair as he used his tongue and mouth on her. By the time she came he was holding her up, her legs almost giving out on her. He stood quickly kissing her once more and knowing she could taste herself on his lips made him even more aroused. He needed to be in her.

Molly couldn't quite believe that Sherlock had gone down on her and given her one of the most amazing orgasms of her life. Her legs felt like rubber and it was only her grip on his hair and his shoulders that had kept her standing.

As he stood and kissed her once more she realised with a lust filled jolt that he was still fully dressed compared to her complete nakedness. It seemed both wrong and erotic at the same time.

She wanted to strip him naked but it felt like too much effort, she may have just had a blistering orgasm but she wanted him, no needed him inside her. They seemed to be of one mind because between them they opened his trousers just enough to release his erection.

In one move he lifted her and positioned himself and then she was slowly lowering herself onto him, feeling him stretching her. She looked into his eyes as he entered her and saw her own feelings reflected back before he moved to kiss her again. For a moment they were still, lost in the kiss, but then he thrust his hips into her and she could feel everything, his hand on her backside holding her up, his other on her face, his erection deep inside her filling her in the most perfect way.

He moved his head to her shoulder kissing her neck and her collarbone. The hand that had been on her face found her hand and moved it up the wall holding it above her head. His movements were getting faster and Molly could feel herself start to spasm around him. She was calling out his name urging him to come with her and he did, pressing himself as far into her as he could, feeling his release pour into her.

This time his legs gave out and he held Molly to him as he slid them both down to the floor where she ended up straddling him as he held her close.

'Oh God Molly, that was amazing, you felt amazing.' They were both breathing heavily and it was only then that Molly really realised what they had just done. She giggled nervously.

He frowned at her, 'what?'

'We didn't even make it to the bedroom. You're not even undressed. I have never done anything like that before...but I want to again.' She held his face and kissed him a deep, slow kiss which went on so long Molly could feel herself starting to feel horny and ready for him again.

This time when they broke apart it was Sherlock who was smiling, 'maybe we should make it to the bedroom then?' She nodded and shrieked slightly as he picked them both up and carried her through to her bed. He threw her down laughing as she bounced slightly then he set about removing what was left of his clothes.

Molly leant up on her elbows and watched him, biting her lip and enjoying the sight of him stripping for her. He was almost erect again by the time he climbed onto the bed and crawled up her body.

He lay at the side of her his head on his hand as he looked down at her, his other hand playing with her breast. 'You, Molly Hooper, may regret unleashing my sexual appetite. I've been abstinate for a long, long time and I'm just starting to wonder why.'

She smiled up at him slyly, ' I'm more than happy to fulfil any need you might have.'

'I may never leave this bed again, though...' He shifted slightly, 'we might need to order a new mattress this one is awful!'

He noticed that Molly's blush spread endearingly across her chest, but he wished he could take back his words when he remembered it was probably due to her having no money.

'Yes, well maybe I can get a new one now. I take it my pay rise was due to you? Plus it looks like Mum will get some extra money due to dad's death not being natural causes. I have no doubt you'd deduced that I was helping her out.'

'Well I think that's a given isn't it. As for the pay rise I only put the idea in Mike's head, you wouldn't have received it if you hadn't deserved it, he had more than enough evidence to argue for it at the pay review panel, so that's down to you. But anyway, a new mattress probably isn't worth it, we'll be living at 221B anyway.'

Molly frowned and sat up, 'oh will we will we! And who decided that one?'

Sherlock smiled and pushed her back down on the mattress leaning over her, 'I did!' He bent down and kissed her enjoying feeling the full length of his body sliding against hers. He broke away, 'any problem with that?'

Molly looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust and her lips still red from his kiss. She looked almost dazed, 'Mmm sorry...I'll deal with you and your presumptions later, now less talking and more kissing.'

He kissed her again his body over hers now, pressing her into the mattress with his weight. He could feel her hands trailing down his back and over his backside, felt her legs opening to accommodate him.

He was already hard for her, he couldn't remember sex ever being like this. His previous experiences had been physical and unemotional. This...this was different. He didn't just want the physical release he wanted the connection with her, to be part of her.

She reached down between them and grasped him causing him to groan at the feel of her small hand wrapped around him. She used her hand to stroke him two or three times before she positioned him at her entrance. As he pushed into her he felt like he was finally coming home.

This time their coupling was slow and intimate, they took their time getting to know each other's bodies. Sherlock knew he would need to catalogue and file all her reactions in his mind palace, he wanted to remember every sigh, every moan, and he loved the way she called his name as she came. He already knew he would never tire of that. She was everything he ever needed and more.

JWJWJWJWJWJWJWJW

The next day John was a little late getting to Baker St. He wondered what he would find when he arrived, suspecting it would be an irritable, unwashed Sherlock ready to tear him apart just for sport.

He was pleasantly surprised therefore to find that not only was the flat empty but Sherlock's bed was still made and clearly hadn't been slept in.

John set about making himself a cup of coffee, 'well, bugger me sideways, looks like for once he took my advice. I hope Molly knows what she's letting herself in for.' But he smiled happily to himself as he said it.

 **There you go, up against the wall was the request from lil so that's what you all got, I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **And there we have it, another little story finished but don't fret, I have lots more Sherlolly goodness planned for you guys; coming up will be a few new chapters for my Sherlock Holmes, Vampire story and also as it's been one year since I started writing I'm revisiting my very first story, Frozen, and adding in a 'how they got there' and a 'what happened next'. It's called Unfrozen (again, thank you Lil) so look out for it at the start of July. Beyond that there will be another multi-chapter crime/romance fic, I can't wait for you to read that one!**

 **Anyway, enough from me let me know what your thoughts are. xxxx**


End file.
